


Aisle 2

by darker_descent



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Aliens, F/F, Gen, Grocery Store, High School, Mystery, POV Outsider, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-10-13 00:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darker_descent/pseuds/darker_descent
Summary: While restocking the pasta boxes, Maude notices a familiar face.This launches her into an investigation, and launches Eddie Brock into a new and annoying task of maintaining certain secrets. (Or maybe, more accurately, one particular secret.)





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> this is just something fun that i'm working on in between working on my bigger project, so any updates will be sporadic. i'm also not sure if it's gonna be connected to the universe of my big project, but i guess we'll see?
> 
> anyway, i hope you enjoy what i have so far!!

There were plenty of weird people that came to the supermarket, and Maude hardly minded any of them. The majority of the mumbling or twitchy people ended up not bothering her, so there was no reason to pay any particular attention to them.  
  
So when a man came in talking to himself, she decided that was none of her business. What she decided was her business, however, was how familiar his face was.  
  
She noticed him while shelving pasta boxes in aisle two, where he seemed to be searching for that night’s dinner.  
  
“Uh, spaghetti?” the man said.  
  
After a pause he continued, “Since when are you picky about our spaghetti intake?”  
  
Listening to him, it was like he was one half of a conversation, the other participant being someone Maude couldn’t hear. That in itself was vaguely interesting, but again, none of Maude’s business.  
  
But when she turned to look at him, his face was so familiar. Had she seen him before? Did he just have “one of those faces” that made people mistake him for someone they knew?  
  
Tucking the remaining pasta boxes under her arm, Maude peeked into aisle three. Ashlie was speaking with a customer, and Maude found she had no qualms about interrupting.  
  
“Ashlie,” she said, walking up to them.  
  
“Hm? Yeah, Maude?” she said, turning her attention from the customer. “Can it wait? I’m with a customer.”  
  
“It’s an emergency,” Maude said, her enthusiasm communicating that it definitely wasn’t.  
  
Ashlie raised an eyebrow. Maude sighed and turned to the customer.  
  
“Frozen foods are a few aisles down,” she said, jabbing her thumb in the general direction and then grabbing Ashlie’s wrist. “Come on.”  
  
“You’re the worst,” Ashlie said, her giggling communicating that Maude definitely wasn’t.  
  
Maude dragged her into aisle two, where the man was still caught up in one-sided debate over spaghetti.  
  
“Okay, I have an offer,” he said. “Red sauce. And Parmesan.”  
  
He paused as if listening and shook his head. “Just because Gordon Ramsay can do it doesn’t mean we can.”  
  
“What is it?” Ashlie whispered. Her lip curled. “Is this dude bothering you or something?”  
  
“No,” Maude said, smiling a little. “He just looks familiar. Do you recognize him?”  
  
Ashlie squinted at him. “Uh…yeah, maybe…”  
  
“Great, finally,” the man said, putting back the spaghetti and grabbing a box of wheel-shaped pasta.  
  
Ashlie snapped her fingers. “Eddie Brock!”  
  
The man’s head snapped to look at them, and Ashlie jumped back in surprise.  
  
“Oh, hey,” he said, smiling awkwardly.  
  
“Hi,” Ashlie said, offering him a small wave.  
  
“Hi,” Maude said, studying his face. Yep, that was Eddie Brock. He used to have a show that Maude would watch after school, until it was cancelled and Brock moved back to writing articles. Maude had read a few of them, actually. They were pretty good, considering he was a Catholic-raised 40-year-old white dude.  
  
“I’m just, uh,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “buying pasta, y’know?”  
  
Maude suppressed the urge to shake her head, but couldn’t help from raising one brow at his surprisingly shitty conversational skills.  
  
“Shut up, man,” Brock mumbled.  
  
“What?” Ashlie said. Maude waved her hand in a gesture that said, “Don’t worry about it.”  
  
“Have a good day, sir,” Maude said, taking Ashlie’s hand and tugging them into the adjacent aisle.  
  
“Oh my God, Maude,” Ashlie said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Should we ask for his autograph?”  
  
“I still have to stock pasta,” Maude said. “If I can, I’ll ask for you.”  
  
“You’re the best,” Ashlie said, putting her hand up for a high-five.  
  
_Not really something to high-five over,_ Maude thought. But she returned the gesture anyway, because she couldn’t in good conscience leave Ashlie hanging.  
  
She returned back to stacking pasta boxes, a curious ear listening to Brock’s continued mumblings. Brock was decently famous, and he had become even more relevant after providing his old studio with evidence of human experimentation at the Life Foundation. By some strange coincidence, Carlton Drake had also disappeared around that time, along with other employees of the corporation (with those remaining claimed they didn’t have any idea what happened to him).  
  
Then there were the rumors of a monster lurking San Francisco’s streets at night. Well, less like rumors and more like…like _gossip,_ considering said monster had been seen in full form by multiple eye witnesses. It also happened to be seen on the same night that Eddie Brock’s place was trashed. Brock claimed Drake’s hired protection had been searching for the evidence he had collected, and that the monster was something related to the foundation that he still didn’t understand. Said monster had made various appearances since then, but nothing caught on video, and nothing with the similarly indisputable amount of witnesses to back up claims.  
  
So, yeah, Maude was curious. Sue her.  
  
“No, I’m sure it’s fine,” Brock said, his back turned to Maude now. He was looking at the jars of red sauces lined on the shelf opposite the pastas. “They’re high schoolers working at a grocery store. They’ve got bigger things to worry about.”  
  
Maude heard Brock shuffle, and refrained from looking back at him. Instead she busied herself with shelving the rigatoni, the open ends reminding her of a certain aspect of the store that might be able to quell her curiosity. She would have to ask Mike later.  
  
Until then, she finished putting the last box on the shelf and turned to sneak a look at Brock. He was still looking at sauces, but now mumbling quietly enough that Maude couldn’t make out what he was saying.  
  
Again, that normally wouldn’t be her business. And okay, maybe it still wasn’t, but her curiosity about the enigma of Eddie Brock overrode her usual supermarket code, that being “Don’t bother worrying about weirdos in the supermarket.” But to be fair, a weirdo involved in company conspiracies and possibly biological experiments or alien lifeforms was a reasonable place to start having exceptions to that rule.  
  
Maude took out her phone and texted Ashlie.  
  
     dicktective: do you have time to meet after our shifts? i have something to show you.

* * *

  
“That text was unnecessarily ominous,” Ashlie said, leaning to look over Mike’s shoulder.  
  
“I thought it was just the right amount of ominous,” Maude said.  
  
Ashlie rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips.  
  
“What are you looking for, exactly?” Mike asked, smiling eagerly. “Not crime, right?” he said, smile dropping for a moment. “That wouldn’t be fun.”  
  
“Probably not,” Maude said, prompting a light punch on the arm from Ashlie. “It’s aisle two, sometime around 5:30,” she said, returning Ashlie’s gesture with a light shove.  
  
“Okay,” Mike said, back to his usual eager self. “You know I probably shouldn’t be doing this, right?”  
  
“It’s for a good cause,” Maude said.  
  
“What cause?” Ashlie said. “Your detective-ing hobby? Mike’s social life?”  
  
“Hey!” Mike said.  
  
“She has a point there, Mike,” Maude said.  
  
Mike blinked at her. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”  
  
“That’s probably for the best.”  
  
He stared at her for a second, maybe debating whether or not he should bother helping her. Then he sighed, shrugged, and went back to looking through the store’s security footage.  
  
“Right there,” Maude said, spotting the moment of her pasta-shelving.  
  
Mike resumed the playback, and Maude once again saw Brock mumbling to himself as she stacked pastas. The security footage didn’t have audio, so Maude couldn’t hope to hear all of what he was saying, but that was fine. She could sorta-kinda-maybe read lips, so there was a chance she could pick up on something.  
  
(Okay, let’s be honest with ourselves—she wasn’t going to be able to pick up on anything.)  
  
“Is he talking to you?” Ashlie said, crossing her arms and leaning forward to inspect the footage.  
  
“No,” Maude said. “He was talking to himself.”  
  
“Ah, okay,”  Ashlie said, moving back and dropping her arms to her sides.  
  
“Is that why you wanted to check this guy out?” Mike said. “That’s not really a basis for investigation.”  
  
“No, it’s because he’s Eddie Brock,” Maude said, watching as the her on the screen moved to aisle three, out of the view of this camera. “The one involved with the Life Foundation.”

Mike nodded, apparently deeming that to be a just cause. Or maybe a not-shitty-enough-to-curb-my-interest cause.  
  
“Speaking of,” Ashlie said, “did you ever get his autograph?”  
  
Oops. “May or may not have forgotten about that,” Maude said, shrugging apologetically.  
  
“Aw man, you—” Ashlie started, then cut herself off to point at the screen. “Oh my God, Maude, look!”  
  
“What?” Maude said. There wasn’t really anything unusual going on, unless you counted Eddie Brock putting a box of mac-and-cheese back onto the shelf as unusual.  
  
“Mike, go back,” Ashlie said, pointing her fingers to left as if to signal him, despite the fact that his back was to her.  
  
Still, a verbal command was enough, and Mike rewound the footage just a bit until Ashlie shouted “There!” He stopped on the image of a black tendril protruding from Eddie’s back to grab a falling box of mac-and-cheese. Mike pressed play, and the tendril quickly handed the box to Eddie before disappearing into his back.  
  
“Holy shit,” all three said in unison.  
  
“Can you go back again?” Maude asked, pulling out her phone. “I wanna record that.”


	2. Investigation

“Holy shit,” Nik and Enola said in unison.  
  
“I know, right?” Ashlie said. “It’s freaky.”  
  
Thinking about it, there was probably something very illegal about Maude using her phone to get a second-hand recording of the supermarket’s security footage, and something even more illegal about sharing it with her friends at high school. But then again, Maude found she didn’t care that much about the legality of a situation when there was the possibility of biological experimentation.  
  
“There’s the possibility of biological experimentation,” Maude said. “He could have been used as a test subject without his knowledge.”  
  
“Or he volunteered,” Nik suggested. “To, you know, get on the inside.”  
  
“You think they gave him a weird mutation?” Enola said, leaning against Maude’s locker. “Extra limbs or something?”  
  
“Extra _retractable_ limb,” Ashlie said, pointing to Maude’s phone, where the video was paused on the image of the mysterious tendril on its way back to…wherever it went.  
  
“It goes through his jacket,” Maude noted. “It could be part of his clothes.”  
  
“Clothes with…morphing abilities?” Ashlie said.  
  
Maude shrugged. “Could be. Personally, I think he must’ve been a part of some genetic experimentation. That would explain all the human test subjects, the high rate of deaths, and the company’s determination to apprehend Brock.”  
  
“To figure out what got it to work with him in particular,” Ashlie finished.  
  
“If it’s gene-altering drugs,” Nik said, “could they be based on something the company found in space?”  
  
“Maybe they found _aliens_ ,” Enola said, wiggling her fingers for spooky emphasis.  
  
“Uh, I dunno,” Ashlie said. “That seems kinda far-fetched.”  
  
“No, c’mon, listen,” Enola said, “they go to space. They bring asteroids and shit back. What about aliens?”  
  
“Mmmmmmmm no,” Nik said, shaking his head. “I’m kinda with Ashlie on this one.”  
  
“Extraterrestrial influence is definitely a possibility,” Maude argued. “Although I doubt it would be any sort of advanced lifeforms. It’s more likely to be bacteria or other simple forms of life.”  
  
“Jeez, okay Einstein,” Enola grumbled.  
  
“I’m on _your_ side,” Maude said.  
  
“So you’re saying it’s possible it could be big-headed gray space aliens?” Enola said.  
  
Maude shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
Enola clapped and put her fists in the air. “That’s a win for Enola, motherfuckers!”  
  
“I still don’t think it’s aliens,” Ashlie said, crossing her arms over herself. “That just seems, y’know.” She chuckled uncomfortably. “A little crazy, right?”  
  
Maude shrugged again. “Maybe. But then again, so is a giant monster being seen in the middle of San Francisco.”  
  
“But really—” The bell cut off whatever Ashlie was going to say. Nik gave a quick wave before rushing off to his first period class, and Enola gave Maude’s locker a good drumming before her departure.  
  
Maude stayed behind for a moment, eyeing Ashlie.  
  
“You okay?” she asked.  
  
“Hm?” Ashlie said. “Oh, yeah. Hey,” she said, giving Maude’s arm a light touch, “I’ll see you at Shop and Drop after school, right?”  
  
Maude nodded, and Ashlie put her hand up for a high-five. Since she was pretty much physically incapable of leaving Ashlie hanging, she high-fived her, but not without a slight moment of hesitation.  
  
“I’ll see you, Ashlie,” Maude said, letting her fingers linger on Ashlie’s hand.  
  
“Seeya,” Ashlie said, and with that they both moved onto class, Maude’s mind unfocused on her English lesson and racing with the possibilities of Brock’s mysterious abilities.  


* * *

  
  
Maude didn’t bother focusing in any of her classes. Or rather, she didn’t bother focusing _on_ any of her classes. Any chance she got she was looking more into Eddie Brock, and every other time her mind was flipping through possible explanations or leads. By the time school ended she was still partial to her theory of genetic experimentation, but she was much more aware of Brock’s early life (thanks, Wikipedia). Maybe that wouldn’t end up helping, but as people on TV sometimes said, “Leave no stone unturned.”  
  
“I’m going to leave no stone unturned,” Maude said on her walk to Ashlie’s car.  
  
“Understood, detective,” Ashlie said, stopping short to give Maude a two-fingered salute.  
  
Maude smirked. “I don’t think people salute at detectives.”  
  
“Really?” Ashlie said. “I feel like you’re wrong.”  
  
“I’ll look it up,” Maude said, opening the passenger side door to Ashlie’s car.  
  
Ashlie rolled her eyes as Maude seated herself, then followed suit behind the wheel.  
  
“Do you always have to be right?” Ashlie said with an amused smile.  
  
“I’d prefer to be,” Maude said, already typing in her search.  
  
Ashlie leaned back to look behind her as she pulled out. “You’re obnoxious,” she said, still smiling.  
  
“I’m also right,” Maude said. “Nothing on the internet says anything about saluting detectives.”  
  
“Oh, you got me,” Ashlie said. “And, uh, speaking of getting—are you still on that Eddie Brock thing?”  
  
“Yeah,” Maude said. “It interests me.”  
  
“Which part?”  
  
“All the parts,” she said. “Mainly the ones connecting him to San Francisco’s resident super monster though.”  
  
“Okay,” Ashlie said, turning out of the lot and into the street. “I just think it will maybe be a dead end, y’know? Maybe you should, uh, work on figuring out a different big monster.”  
  
“You know any?”  
  
“There are some in New York…”  
  
“I don’t live in New York,” Maude said. “It’s much easier to investigate something going on at home base.”  
  
“That’s fair,” Ashlie said. “I just, uh… Don’t go walking up to big monsters or anything. If you die I will totally kill you.”  
  
“Understood, Colonel,” Maude said, doing a salute. “Pretty sure you salute a colonel,” she added.  
  
Ashlie snorted. “I take it back, feel free to interview giant monsters.”  
  
“Thank you for your blessing,” Maude said.  
  
“That was a joke,” Ashlie said.  
  
“I know,” Maude said. “So was that.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Ashlie said. “So, uh, seriously. Don't go looking for monsters.”  


* * *

  
  
Brock came in later that night, when Maude’s shift was almost up. Though this time he seemed even twitchier than last time, eyes skirting around the store. Working the cash register that night, Maude didn’t exactly have a chance to keep her eyes on him. But when she did, he was acting incredibly suspicious.  
  
He was especially suspicious when Maude happened to make eye-contact with him. Which was, admittedly, more often than she should have allowed.  
  
For example, when he was looking at some of the cookie boxes on display. Maude was watching as he mumbled to himself, seemingly in turmoil over whether he should buy chocolate chip or thin mint cookies. Then he looked up and made direct eye contact with her. She didn’t care to break it, so she continued scanning items while she looked at him.  
  
He crinkled his brow, looked behind him, looked back, and uncomfortably shuffled away after putting both boxes in his basket.  
  
Strange. Maybe he was weirded out by Maude? The more she considered it, the more that seemed likely. So she tried not to stare at him too much for the rest of the night, but she obviously didn’t try hard enough, because there were a plethora of similar moments (although not quite as long-lasting).  
  
Finally, Brock seemed to be done shopping. Oddly enough, he got in Maude’s checkout line. Which was super weird. If she was making him uncomfortable, it didn’t make sense for him to try and interact with her more.  
  
“Hi,” Maude said, like she was supposed. “Did you find everything okay?”  
  
“Oh, yeah, sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
Maude began scanning his items. Were she to be strategic about this, she would slowly build up to her big questions, or she would ask seemingly innocent ones that would get her information. But there was a big possibility that Brock wouldn’t be coming back to this store after tonight.  
  
“What was your experience with the Life Foundation?” Maude asked, scanning one of his cookie boxes and sending it down the conveyer belt toward baggage.  
  
“I—you—what?” he stumbled.  
  
“I’m curious,” Maude said, which wasn’t a lie. “You never wrote a piece on it.”  
  
“Ah,” Brock said. “You’re, uh, you’re a fan?”  
  
“Sure,” she said, and after the fact realized that wasn’t especially convincing. His face definitely told her that too.  
  
“Well, it’s what I told the papers, y’know?” he said. “You can look it up online.”  
  
“I think you’ve probably omitted details,” Maude said. “I wanna know what those are.”  
  
“Oh-kay,” Brock said, exhaling. “That’s just—that’s totally not true.”  
  
No one was waiting behind Brock at that moment, so Maude decided to press.  
  
“There have been lots of strange happenings around you,” Maude said. “Unexplainable things. Or. seemingly unexplainable. I want your help to explain them.”  
  
“To who?”  
  
“Me,” Maude said. _Obviously,_ she thought.  
  
“You,” he repeated.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“You’re—you’re just a kid,” he said pointedly. “Why are you worrying about all this sh—stuff.”  
  
“I’m curious,” she said, which also seemed like an obvious answer. Wasn’t he supposed to be a reporter?  
  
“You're curious,” he repeated.  
  
“Yeah,” Maude said.  
  
“Kid, I’ve got, y’know, places to be, so I’d love to just pay,” Brock said, gesticulating wildly.  
  
Maude nodded. “Sure. Sure. Of course. Right.”  
  
“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he mumbled.  
  
“Excuse me?” Maude said, body tensing.  
  
He looked at her like he was surprised she replied. “What? Oh, no, no, I’m not talking to…you,” he said.  
  
“Ah,” Maude said. “Okay. You can swipe your card now.”  
  
“Great,” Eddie said, and went through the rest of the transaction as quickly as possible, leaving the store in what must’ve been record time.  
  
Maude sighed. “That could have gone better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after almost a month, the next chapter is here! i'm having fun with this, so i hope everyone else is too!


	3. Investigation, Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Maude has learned from the last investigation: Eddie Brock doesn't like being interviewed in the grocery store. Other than that? Not much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter!! i'm so close to finishing my Big Project, but endings are hard so i worked on this a little. i hope everyone enjoys!!

“You definitely ran off a customer,” Ashlie said, stifling a laugh with her hand.  
  
“Please don’t tell Georgia,” Maude said, poking her mom’s famous pasta salad with a plastic fork. “She’ll probably fire me.”  
  
“Of course I won’t,” Ashlie said. “But, uh, does this mean your investigation is over?”  
  
Maude shrugged. “I guess so. The only other way I could talk to him again would be trailing him—”  
  
“Stalking him,” Ashlie said.  
  
“—which I’m not going to do,” Maude finished. “Because it’s illegal. And creepy.”  
  
“Don’t forget invasive and immoral,” Ashlie added.  
  
“Exactly,” Maude said, sighing. “So. Not happening.”  
  
“Good,” Ashlie said, slinging a long arm over Maude’s shoulder. “I think that dude was probably caught up in some messed-up shit. You don’t need to get into that.”  
  
Maude was about to reply when Ashlie leaned closer. For a moment Maude’s brain stuttered to a complete stop, but it came back alive when she felt the arm slung around her reach down and into her chip bag.  
  
“Wow. Bitch,” Maude said, slapping Ashlie’s wrist.  
  
“I’m just bringing it to you,” Ashlie said innocently, curving her wrist toward Maude before leaning in and grabbing it between her own teeth, then quickly pulling back before Maude could react.  
  
“You could’ve just _asked_ for one,” Maude said, playfully shoving her.  
  
“This is more fun,” Ashlie said through chews.  
  
“For _you,”_ Maude said. “For me, it’s just…getting stolen from. And talking with you.” She grabbed a chip and paused in bringing it to her mouth. “One of which is fun. The other of which is getting stolen from.”  
  
“Are you gonna report me?” Ashlie said.  
  
“A written essay will be submitted to the principal detailing your wrongdoings against me,” Maude said.  
  
“Wuh oh,” Enola said, setting down her tray next to Ashlie. “Maude’s talking more pretentious than usual. What’d you do?”  
  
“I borrowed a chip,” Ashlie said.  
  
“Bitch,” Enola said.  
  
“That's exactly what I said,” Maude said.  
  
“Where’s Nik?” Ashlie asked.  
  
“That dumb idiot picked the pizza line,” Enola said.  
  
“And you’re the smart idiot who visited the pasta bar,” Ashlie concluded, gesturing to Enola’s spaghetti (which for once feature red sauce).  
  
“Exactly,” Enola said, twirling a clump and shoving it in her mouth. Maude heard a faint crunch.  
  
“Al dente?” Maude asked.  
  
“Yeah, it’s undercooked, you smartass,” Enola said with a well-meaning roll of her eyes.  
  
Maude politely laughed, then returned to poking her pasta. Was it legal to investigate what went into the school lunches? Because she doubted Enola was eating a tomato-based red sauce. Maybe it was full of illegal, dangerous substances and Maude had to uncover this conspiracy, saving the student body from food poisoning.  
  
She sighed. Definitely not. But she could dream.  
  
“Hey guys,” Nik said, taking a seat next to Enola. “What’d I miss?”  
  
Enola shrugged. “Like, nothing.”  
  
“I was considering the contents of the school’s red sauce,” Maude offered.  
  
“That was in your head,” Ashlie said, “so I think everyone missed it.”  
  
“Fair point.”  
  
“What’s your red sauce conspiracy?” Enola asked.  
  
“The possibility of dangerous ingredients,” Maude said, shrugging. There wasn’t much else to say, since her “theory” had little to no basis besides the sauce’s bland taste.  
  
“How fun,” Enola said. “Oh, oh, wait! You could call it…” She paused for effect. “The Red Scare.”  
  
“What?” Nik said. “That a _thing,_ Enola. Like, an actual thing that happened in the 50s.”  
  
“That’s the point,” Enola argued. “It’s already recognizable. This can be the sequel.”  
  
Maude shook her head. “No scares or sequels today. It’s less of a theory and more like a fantasy.”  
  
“You’re fantasizing about our food being poisoned?” Nik said, giving his pizza a quizzical look.  
  
“I mean, that would be crazy,” Ashlie said, laughing awkwardly. “We’d probably be on the news.”  
  
“I was on the news once,” Enola said.  
  
“The local news,” Nik pointed out. “And it was because you happened to be at 7/11 when some kid stole a few packs of beer.”  
  
“I’m surprised that didn’t make it national,” Maude said, taking a bite of her pasta salad.  
  
Enola said something clever in reply, getting a laugh out of Nik and Ashlie, but Maude found that she didn’t hear it. Her mind was suddenly whirring, pulling her away from this conversation and into the red-string-and-push-pins-board of her mind.  
  
Speaking of crime, as well as things that hadn’t yet made international news, a lot of criminals were just…disappearing. Some of them were small-time, just petty thieves. Others were bigger: murderers, bigots, perverts. A few people suspected of running, like, crime empires had turned up missing. That was of course something that happened on occasion, but it had become more frequent since…  
  
Maude stood up abruptly, startling her friends. “Vigilante,” she said.  
  
“What?” all three of them said.  
  
“There’s—he’s—” She struggled for the words that would communicate her thoughts. Unable to do so, she huffed in frustration and pulled her computer out of her backpack. She pulled up her notes on her current investigation.  
  
“The monster,” she said, hunching over to type up fragmented notes. “Drake’s gone. Criminals gone.”  
  
“Hey, hold on,” Ashlie said. “Are you saying that San Francisco’s big scary cryptid _killed_ Carlton Drake?”  
  
“Yes!” Maude said. “Maybe,” she added. “There’s no evidence to confirm it, but it’s a possibility, especially considering that since this monster’s debut there’s been an increase in the disappearance of criminals.”  
  
“How big an increase?” Ashlie asked.  
  
“I’m not sure,” Maude said. “But it’s marginal, to be sure. I’d have to check the statistics, but it’s _huge.”_  
  
“So Eddie Brock might not just be connected to human experimentation,” Ashlie said. “He could be connected to a _murderer?”_  
  
“Possibly,” Maude said.  
  
“Okay,” Ashlie said, putting a hand on Maude’s shoulder and lightly pushing her back into her seat. “All the more reason to find a new case. I think the red sauce one is promising.”  
  
“Uh, yeah,” Enola chimed in. “Yeah, and you don’t even have to use my name idea. You could call it the, um, Pasta Problem. Sauce Conspiracy.”  
  
“Ingredient Theory,” Nik added.  
  
“Maybe not that one,” Enola said.  
  
“Maybe,” Maude said.  
  
“Maude, I can see your computer screen,” Ashlie said. “I can see you aren’t taking our suggestions.”  
  
“That’s true,” Maude said, turning her computer to face the group, where they could all see the title slide of newly-created slideshow.  
  
They all stared for a moment, faces a mix of confusion and worry and maybe some disappointment. Enola was the first to speak.  
  
“That’s not even catchy.”  


* * *

  
  
“I know I can’t stop you,” Ashlie said, following closely behind Maude.  
  
It was now Saturday, one of their two days off from work and school, and thus it was a perfect time for investigation.  
  
“Which is why I’ll be your, uh…” She paused. “I’ll be your Watson. Or maybe, like, your bodyguard.”  
  
Despite Ashlie’s somewhat scrawny appearance, Maude knew her to be fairly athletic. She was on the basketball team, and she took wrestling classes the previous summer. And even if her physical strength didn’t prove to be much, her height was somewhat intimidating. She was a staggering 6’2”, which was enough to at least get some double-takes from people on the street.  
  
“I would appreciate that,” Maude said. “Talking to strangers is dangerous work.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Ashlie said.  
  
“That was a joke.”  
  
“Oh. Okay. This is really dangerous, though, with the whole… _monster_ thing.”  
  
They stopped in the driveway of a condo on Montgomery Street.  
  
“And possibly illegal,” Ashlie added.  
  
“The address is easy to find on Google,” Maude said. “There’s nothing illegal about asking permission to ask questions.”  
  
“Then it’s weird.”  
  
“A fair assessment,” Maude said. She outstretched her arm, inviting Ashlie to walk up the steps to the condo. “Shall we?”  
  
Ashlie sighed. “I guess. But for the record—” She followed Maude up the stairs. “—you should be investigating Mike.”  
  
“Why Mike?” Maude asked, knocking on the condo door.  
  
“He’s sketchy,” Ashlie said. “He…he lets you look at the security cameras. Who else does he allow to do that?”  
  
Maude shrugged.  
  
“Exactly!” Ashlie said. “A mystery!”  
  
Maude was preparing a response when through the door’s window she saw a woman approaching, and so she instead tapped Ashlie’s shoulder to alert her. Ashlie, not quite catching on, gave Maude a look of confusion before the woman opened the door.  
  
“Hello,” Maude greeted her. “We’re working on a school project and we’d like to ask you some questions about your time working as a lawyer for the Life Foundation.” She smiled innocently.  
  
The woman stared blankly at them, one eyebrow slowly dropping down and the other raising up in an expression of confusion.  
  
“Who are you?” she finally said.  
  
“I’m Maude,” Maude said. “This is Ashlie. We’re partners. We were hoping to ask you a few questions.”  
  
The woman’s eyes went to Ashlie, who she seemed to have just noticed. For a moment they widened, because surely she was taken aback by Ashlie’s stature, but then they returned to Maude with a little less confusion.  
  
“Okay,” she finally said. She moved to the side. “Um…come in,” she offered.  
  
“Thank you,” Maude said, accepting the offer and entering the house. Ashlie followed, her high ponytail almost bumping the top of the doorframe.  
  
“I can’t believe that worked,” she whispered.  
  
“I can’t either,” Maude admitted. “I didn’t think I was very convincing.”  
  
“You weren’t,” Ashlie said, playfully nudging Maude with her elbow.  
  
“I appreciate your confidence in me.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
They sat down on the woman’s couch, Ashlie nervously tapping her knees and Maude preparing her voice recording app. The woman, who had returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug of coffee, sat in a plush chair across from the couch.  
  
“Can I record this conversation?” Maude asked, holding up her phone. “It’s easier than writing it down.”  
  
“What?” The woman was staring at Maude again. Was it something she said?  
  
“Can I record this conversation,” Maude repeated, hoping that would clear things up.  
  
“Record?” the woman parroted.  
  
“Yes,” Maude said, a hint of frustration making its way into her voice. “It will allow me to playback this conversation so I can transfer it to the written word later on.”  
  
“I know that,” the woman said. “But I don’t—”  
  
“It’s for school,” Ashlie interrupted. “We really need your help on our project, ma’am.”  
  
The woman stared at Ashlie now, whose hands were clasped in front of her in plea. She looked from Maude to Ashlie then back again, then she sighed.  
  
“Fine,” she said.  
  
Maude smiled, silently thanking Ashlie’s wide-eyed and freckled innocence. She made a mental note to buy her one of those sugar-dip packets she loved.  
  
“Thank you,” Maude said, pressing record and setting her phone down on the coffee table. “You’re Miss Anne Weying, correct?”  
  
“Yes,” Weying answered.  
  
“You were previously employed at a lawyering firm defending the Life Foundation,” Maude said, “until you were let go for reasons not released to the public. What were those reasons?”  
  
“Um,” Weying said. “I don’t see how that’s—what is your project on?”  
  
“Did it have to do with Eddie Brock’s earlier interview that same day, which accused the Life Foundation of legal cases involving the deaths of participants?”  
  
“That’s—” She sighed. “Yes, that’s correct. I got an email talking about the legal cases, and my fiancé at the time—”  
  
“Eddie Brock.”  
  
“—Eddie, he looked at it,” Weying finished. “He broke my trust. I broke my company’s trust. I was fired.” She sighed. “And it was wrong of him to do that, but in the end maybe it was better. He was right about the Life Foundation being…bad.” She paused. “Don’t let him know I said that.”  
  
“I’ll leave that out of the project,” Maude assured. “But can you expand on what you mean by ‘bad’?” She punctuated the word with air quotes. Ashlie covered her face with one hand and rolled her eyes, but her smile showed no malice behind it.  
  
Weying paused, obviously considering just how to word what she was about to say. Being a lawyer, she had to be good at that. Not that Maude knew much about being a lawyer, besides the ones on TV carrying briefcases to their courtrooms, which they opened to reveal stacks of legal papers. If Maude was a lawyer, she would love a briefcase. She’d love a briefcase now. She made a mental note to add it to her birthday list.  
  
“The Life Foundation was run by a corrupt man,” Weying started. “Carlton Drake. He cared more about progress in his company than he did the lives of those who helped him. So his company covered up a lot of death, and lawsuits, and other issues that would turn the public against him.”  
  
“Now that he’s turned up missing, there’s a little more information surfacing,” Maude said. “For instance, the pictures Brock provided his old workplace with.” They had been taken down quickly after they were released, but Maude had the foresight to screenshot the article (and so had a few others on the internet, who continued to reupload the images despite multiple take-downs and account deactivations).  
  
“I, um,” Weying said. “I really don’t know any more about that than you do.”  
  
“He didn’t, uh,” Ashlie said. “He didn’t tell you about some of the weirder ones? Like the first one. It was, y’know, really weird.” She chuckled. Maude eyed her for a moment before returning her attention to Weying.  
  
“No,” Weying said. “I really don’t know anything about that.”  
  
“Okay, cool,” Ashlie said, tension visibly leaving her body. “Good, yeah. Probably just bad camerawork, anyway.”  
  
“Right,” Weying said, chuckling nervously. “He was more of a writer than a photographer.”  
  
“And he’s recently gone back to writing after his encounter with the Life Foundation,” Maude said, trying to steer them back on track. “Which coincided with his house being broken into.” She paused before adding the next part. “And the sighting of a monster in the streets.”  
  
Weying blinked at her, then broke into a laugh. “Oh, you believe that? I’m sorry, but I don’t—”  
  
“There were multiple witnesses,” Maude said, “many of which provided photographic evidence.”  
  
Weying was silent, but Maude could practically hear her mind whirring.  
  
“Do you know anything about that?” Maude asked, leaning closer.  
  
Weying stared at her. Then, without the same casual friendliness as she had before, she said, “I don’t know anything about that.” She stood slowly, eyes not leaving Maude. “I think you two should go.”  
  
Ashlie bolted upright almost immediately, grabbing Maude by the hand. “We’re sorry,” she said. “We will definitely go. Right now.”  
  
Maude grabbed her phone, and as soon as she did Ashlie pulled her out the door. And with a dramatic slam, Anne Weying literally closed the door, and she figuratively closed this lead.  
  
Maude sighed, and for the second time in this investigation she said, “That could have gone better.”


	4. Homework and Movies and No Feelings Whatsoever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh hey, that big project i've been talking about is done! i'm very proud of it, and you can read it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535264/chapters/43931278) if you'd like

“Please don’t be upset, Maude,” Ashlie said.  
  
“I’m not upset,” Maude lied, hands wrapped around the strap of her messenger bag. She knew it was obvious she was upset. Her mom always told her that when she got angry or sad, she was less emotive than usual. When the time to observe this came, Maude found that her mother was correct.  
  
“How about we go to my place?” Ashlie offered. “We could watch a movie. Maybe a shitty mystery one that you’ll figure out in five seconds,” she said, nudging Maude with her elbow.  
  
“Sure,” Maude said, without much enthusiasm behind it.  
  
“Also, I need help with my pre-calc homework.”  
  
“I knew you had ulterior motive.”   
  
She took Ashlie’s hand, the act of which still caused a spike in her heartbeat, no matter how many times she did it, no matter how friendly the manner. Ashlie’s hands were always warm, no matter the day or month or weather. But despite the fact that they seemed to radiate heat, they weren’t ever sweaty. Really, they were oddly dry and smooth.  
  
They began walking, hand-in-hand, and just as they did Ashlie stopped them in their tracks and spun her head around. She squinted at people behind them, which today were few. There was a girl jogging in the distance, and one woman talking loudly on the phone, both of them heading in the opposite direction of Maude and Ashlie. One man walked by them, giving them an odd look. Ashlie eyed him for a moment, but then shook her head.  
  
“Are you alright?” Maude asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Ashlie said. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” She sniffed, then shook her head again. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”  
  
“It’s fine,” Maude said. “I understand you’re paranoid.”  
  
“Me? Paranoid?” she said. “No way.”  
  
“You’re concerned for my safety, and yours, because of my pursuit in this investigation,” Maude continued. “Because you know my investigation is now very related to the seven-foot-tall vigilante patrolling San Francisco.”  
  
“Okay,” Ashlie said. “Maybe—maybe—I was a little worried about that detail. Because I don’t want you to be gobbled up by a big monster.”  
  
“And that’s why you want me to cease my investigation,” Maude concluded.  
  
Ashlie was silent for a moment. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, that’s…part of it.”  
  
“Only part of it?”  
  
“I mean, um,” she started, stumbling on her words, “I don’t want to get gobbled up either. That’s the other part. But I’m more worried about you because you’re, y’know, a big idiot who won’t give this up until it kills you.”  
  
“It won’t kill me.”  
  
Ashlie was silent again. They passed by condos and storefronts and at least five dogs before Ashlie spoke again.  
  
“You have to promise me something,” she said.  
  
“That depends on what it is.”  
  
“You’re not gonna do any investigating without me,” Ashlie said. “Not on this case.”  
  
Maude stared at her. By all logic she knew Ashlie couldn’t hear her rapidly-beating heart, but she still worried. She worried even more that Ashlie could feel her intense pulse through her wrist.  
  
“I promise.”  
  
There was a painfully long moment where they stared at each other, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. What broke them out of it was a girl very rudely nudging past Ashlie. Ashlie ignored her, but she squeezed Maude’s hand tighter.  
  
“So,” she said, taking one final look behind them, then back to Maude. “My house?”  
  
Maude nodded, extending the arm not holding onto Ashlie. “Lead the way, Gumshoe Clive.”  
  
“Of course, Detective Miller,” Ashlie said, giving a salute.  
  
“I thought we had discussed the lack of salutes given to detectives?” Maude said, raising her eyebrows. She wished she had the skill of Dreamworks characters, one who could raise one eyebrow at a time to communicate mischief or disbelief.  
  
“Don’t detectives deserve it?” Ashlie said, also raising her eyebrows.  
  
“That would always depend on the detective.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, you’re right. In that case, I think you probably qualify. For a salute, I mean.”  
  
“Thank you, Gumshoe,” Maude said, offering Ashlie a dignified nod of her head. Ashlie returned the gesture less elegantly, with more of a jerk of her head than a nod. Her ponytail bounced with the movement.  
  
Then her lower body froze, her red hair flying as she whipped her head around and squinted suspiciously behind them. Maude followed her gaze but saw nothing besides passing pedestrians, all of whom paid no attention to the two of them.  
  
Maude studied Ashlie’s expression. Her eyes were darting around, not focused on any particular point on the horizon, but her tense jaw and furrowed brow signaled a concentration Maude rarely saw off of the basketball court. She was searching, but evidently she didn’t find what she was looking for because her jaw relaxed and she exhaled through her nose.  
  
“Are you concerned someone might be following us?” Maude asked.  
  
“No,” Ashlie said much too quickly, hair flying again as she turned swiftly to look at Maude. “We should head to my house,” she said, tugging Maude down the street and hailing a cab.  
  
They sat in silence for the next few minutes, Maude contemplating Ashlie’s odd behavior, Ashlie nervously twiddling her thumbs. There was a high probability that Ashlie was becoming unnecessarily paranoid because of Maude taking this case, and the thought of that made Maude’s stomach turn uncomfortably.  
  
When they made it to Ashlie’s house, her nervous fidgeting stopped and both girls stepped out of the car, Maude not being able to help the small upward curve at the edge of her lips. It was always nice being at Ashlie’s house, a quaint two-story building with a two-car garage and two bathrooms. Maude didn’t know much of anything about architecture but she could tell that Ashlie’s home was…unconventional. The walls inside were curved, the doorways topped with colorful arches, and there were various columns that descended for no particular reason.   
  
The outside contrasted with the rounded inside, being your typical cube-looking city home. The only way the interior and exterior matched were in color, in that both had entirely sporadic and clashing paint jobs on each and every wall, with it being a one-time case for adjacent walls to be the same color (that case happened to be in Ashlie’s bedroom, which had bright green walls).  
  
When Ashlie opened the front door she was instantly greeted by her two dogs, Couch and Jenna. Couch was a black-and-white borzoi, and Jenna was a lean brown-furred greyhound. Though this weakness wasn’t something Maude would be willing to admit, it was true that she wouldn’t know which breed were which if Ashlie hadn’t informed her.  
  
“Hello,” Maude greeted them, patting each dog on the head.  
  
Ashlie, despite being very familiar with these two dogs, greeted them as if this was their first time meeting.  
  
“Hello!” she squealed at them, and their wagging tails somehow sped up and they both jumped on their hind legs to try and lick her face.  
  
Maude watched Ashlie half-heartedly tell the dogs to sit, but when they didn’t comply she still rewarded them with pats and high-pitched squeals. It was noticeable how the tension in her shoulders slowly disappeared the longer she interacted with them.  
  
When the dogs calmed down, Ashlie turned to her. “Mystery movie,” she said.  
  
“Pre-calc homework.”  
  
Ashlie pointed a finger to the living room, even though Maude was already familiar with the house’s layout and of the areas they usually participated in various activities. (Movies were the living room, homework was there or the kitchen, serious discussions were in Ashlie’s room, entertaining the dogs was in the old playroom.)  
  
“Okay,” Ashlie said, grabbing the remote and falling back onto the couch. As her name suggested, Couch also sat down in the corner she had claimed as her own. “What haven’t you seen?”  
  
Maude placed her bag on the coffee table and sat down between them, giving Couch a pat. “Contrary to what you might think, I don’t actually watch many mystery movies,” Maude said.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yes. I don’t recall watching more than one outside of your house.”  
  
“Oh.” Ashlie tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a motion that Maude followed closely. “Well, I mean, the question still stands.”  
  
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing The Detective Diaries,” Maude said. “While it’s a more comedic movie, I’ve come across reviews praising it for maintaining humor and suspense, as well as having a shocking ending.”  
  
“Probably not for you,” Ashlie said, “since you’re a professional detective already.”  
  
“Hardly,” Maude said. “I appreciate the compliment, but I still have a lot to learn. Hopefully I’ll receive the proper training in my quest to become a paid private detective.”  
  
“I wish I had your planning skills,” Ashlie said, picking up the remote and beginning the search for The Detective Diaries. “I don’t really… I’m not sure what I’m gonna do when I graduate.”  
  
“You still have a substantial amount of time to consider it.”  
  
“Substantial as in, like, a year?”  
  
“That could be enough,” she said, unconvincingly.  
  
“Yeah,” Ashlie said, equally unconvincing. “Um, anyway. Detectives. Diaries.”  
  
“Pre-calc,” Maude reminded her.  
  
“Pre-calc, right. Right.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Right.” She cleared her throat. “Found the movie.”  
  
The movie began and the pair’s voices fell silent, save for whispered pre-calc discussions. Half an hour into the movie Maude suspected the main detective, the detective’s sidekick’s daughter, and a few of the recurring extras ranging from news reporters to passersby. By the forty-five minute mark she had narrowed it down to the paper delivery boy on the blue bike, who she knew with certainty had to be the culprit.  
  
“I know with certainty he has to be the culprit,” Maude informed Ashlie.  
  
“Really? It feels like it’s pointing toward the daughter.”  
  
“The film has made a point at placing the delivery boy at the scene of every crime,” Maude said. “The daughter was at all but one, where the delivery boy himself is not seen, but his bike is clearly in the background.”  
  
“Huh,” Ashlie said after Maude explained it.  
  
The rest of the movie Maude continued to watch him closely in between her helping with Ashlie’s homework, which they finished just before the climactic scene in which the delivery boy was apprehended.  
  
“Right again, Detective,” Ashlie said.  
  
“Speaking of which,” Maude said, “since we’re partners—” She faltered. “Partners in this case. Partners-who-are-working-together-to-solve-a-mystery partners.” She took a breath and continued. “I was hoping you’d consider looking over my case notes.”  
  
“Oh, um, sure,” Ashlie said, shifting so she faced Maude.  
  
Maude took her laptop from her bag. It was on, her presentation and notes still open. She started with the presentation, which she thought was aptly titled.  
  
“The Eddie Brock Case: His Connection to the Life Foundation and San Francisco’s Monster Vigilante,” Ashlie read.  
  
She gave Maude a weak smile. “Still a very good title.”  
  
“I think we both need to get better at lying,” Maude said.  
  
Ashlie shrugged. “I tried.” She cleared her throat. “Uh, anyway,” she said, “what’s the rest of your theory?”  
  
“Well, considering the title, you already know that I’ve tied this monster to the current vigilantism in the city,” Maude said.  
  
“Okay, but,” Ashlie said, “I have a counterpoint.”  
  
Maude made a gesture that said “Go ahead.”  
  
“We don’t know it’s vigilantism,” she said. “It could be… I don’t know, it could be higher-ups that are angry with their employees.”  
  
“That could be a possibility,” Maude agreed, “but it would account for the numerous ‘disappearances’ of criminals not at all tied with organized crime.”  
  
Ashlie exhaled through her nose. “Yeah, okay. I guess what we have so far points to that thing being a…crimefighter.”  
  
“You have to admit that its appearance coincides with the disappearance of Carlton Drake and an abundance of other criminals. That can’t be a coincidence.”  
  
“I thought I did just admit that?”  
  
Maude paused. “You’re right,” she concluded. “I was too caught up in trying to convince you to realize I had already convinced you.”  
  
Ashlie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, Sherlock. Now what else do you have?”  
  
“Mostly the obvious,” she said with some embarrassment. “The creature itself isn’t human, and it may have a connection with Brock considering the time of its first sighting. But we don’t know what it is, and we can’t without tracing its origin. Although considering the Life Foundation’s history, I believe something such as gene-splicing or maybe extraterrestrial influence is likely.”  
  
“You think this thing came from the Life Foundation?” Ashlie asked.  
  
“I think it’s likely, yes. All the timing seems like too much of a coincidence for it to truly be coincidence.”  
  
“Okay,” Ashlie said, scratching her elbow. “But I mean, aliens? You really think it’s aliens?”  
  
“Another possibility,” Maude said. “I for one find it unlikely that we’re alone in this universe. And with the other things we’ve seen, I don’t think the suggestion of alien life is so absurd.”  
  
Ashlie sucked in a breath. “Yeah,” she said, without much enthusiasm at all.  
  
Maude wondered what Ashlie’s issue with this investigation was. She had said it was a worry about their safety, but it seemed to go deeper than that. Did she have a general dislike of Maude’s hobbies? She had never shown this level of distaste for one of her cases. Usually she was benignly interested, or even an active participant in coming up with theories. What was different now?  
  
And Maude found herself considering for a moment that maybe, just possibly, Ashlie didn’t want her to actually solve this case.  
  
But of course that didn’t make any sense at all. There was absolutely no motive.  
  
Still, always a thorough investigator, Maude stored the possibility in the back of her mind.  
  
Just then both Ashlie and Couch sat up perfectly straight, heads turning toward the front door. Couch sniffed the air and jumped down onto the floor as Jenna started bounding toward the front door, both their tails wagging furiously. Ashlie relaxed back into her seat.  
  
Maude heard the door creak open, and then came the familiar voices of Ashlie’s parents, evidently home from their places of work. They worked in the same office, which Maude thought sounded boring, but they apparently had fun there.  
  
“Ashlie?” her mother called.  
  
“We’re home!” said her father.  
  
“Yeah, I’m here,” Ashlie called back. “So is Maude.”  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Clive stepped in wearing matching smiles.  
  
“Maude, dear,” Mrs. Clive said, holding up a plastic grocery bag, “I’m going to be making some cookies. Would you like some?”  
  
“Family recipe,” Mr. Clive added.  
  
Maude, of course, knew that the “family recipe” consisted of the store-bought frozen chocolate chip cookies, and the Clives knew she knew that (and although she would’ve loved to credit her deduction skills for the discovery, they weren’t exactly secretive about it).  
  
“I’d love some of your homemade cookies,” Maude said.  
  
Mrs. Clive chuckled. “Great, we’ll start up on them.”  
  
“Both of us?” Mr. Clive asked, joking demeanor being replaced with genuine confusion.  
  
“It’s a complicated recipe,” Mrs. Clive said, something unsaid behind the words.  
  
Mr. Clive blinked, looked at Maude and Ashlie, and then looked back to his wife, seeming to finally understand. He nodded. “Of course! To the kitchen.”  
  
Ashlie’s face went red. “Stop it!” she said, just as her parents were exiting into the kitchen, out of sight and hearing range.  
  
She turned to Maude, face still flushed bright red. “Sorry about them. You know how embarrassing they are.”  
  
“I like their humorous attitudes,” Maude said.  
  
“Never say that to their faces,” Ashlie warned. “Otherwise they’ll never leave us alone.”  
  
“Duly noted.”  
  
There was a pause, an uncomfortable silence created by something unsaid.  
  
Many things unsaid.  
  
Maude opened her mouth, but the words that came out were ultimately useless.  
  
“Do you think genetic mutation is the more likely scenario?”  
  
Ashlie looked at her for a long moment, then simply said, “Yes.”  
  
And from then on the rest of Maude’s visit was mostly the two of them repeating information back at each other, dancing around uncomfortable subjects, and having a moment of reprieve where they both ate some fresh “homemade” cookies.  
  
When Maude returned home, she couldn’t help but feel dissatisfied. At first she chalked it up to the lack of progress on the investigation, since neither her nor Ashlie had seemed to have any epiphanies in their time spent together. Even the interview with Weying had mostly been a dead end, only confirming in Maude’s eyes that something was being covered up, something relating to the details of that October night in which Eddie Brock infiltrated the Life Foundation, the same night in which an inky black creature surfaced in the public eye. The pieces were there, they had to be, but there was something missing, something that prevented her from putting it all together.  
  
But then there was the other something, the something she preferred not to think about, refused to think about. There was the something she couldn’t admit to anyone, could hardly admit to herself, and that always appeared whenever Ashlie smiled.  
  
She buried her face in her pillow, having the illogical thought that maybe the action would also bury her feelings.  
  
“This is stupid,” she said to herself, sitting up and pulling out her computer, attempting to distract her busy mind. She surveyed her notes again and again, but her brain was stuck, unable to come up with a new connection, a meaningful conclusion.  
  
She thumbed lightly at the snake bite piercings below her lips, mentally preparing to lay down on the floor in defeat, but then she saw a message appear in the corner of her screen.  
  
enolacola: hey um ok  
enolacola: so im like  
enolacola: NOT supposed 2 be encouraging u lol  
enolacola: so dont tell nik or ash or theyll prob block me for a solid week  
enolacola: BUT  
enolacola: i think i have smthn for ur detective thing  
  
Maude blinked at the messages for a long moment before replying.  
  
dicktective: spill the beans, enola.  
enolacola: ok 1st of all ur making me regret this  
enolacola: bcuz no one says that  
enolacola: but 2nd of all  
enolacola: yes i will spill the beans  
  
Maude, ever prepared, pulled out her notepad and made sure to jot down everything she was given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maude came here to solve a mystery, not deal with her interpersonal relationships (and god forbid her _feelings_ )!

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @fallmutual


End file.
